


Home

by OthilaOdal



Category: Death Note
Genre: M/M, Multi, Sexual Content, Sexual Experimentation, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:24:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2225541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OthilaOdal/pseuds/OthilaOdal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If home is where the heart is then I’m assuming for a lot of people home is another person’s arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

You have to be far far away from home to miss it.

And if home is where the heart is then I’m assuming for a lot of people home is another person’s arms.

I’m not the kind of person to get too attached or sappy and emotional over my relationships.

No no.

I’m lying.

I’m exactly the kind of person to get too attached or sappy and emotional over my relationships. That’s why it’s so important to say that I’m not that kind of a person. But sometimes when you tell a lie too much you end up believing it.

And even when you don’t, sometimes you need to lie a lot to learn the truth. And you need to be far far away from home to miss it.

Rod was good in bed. Scary at times, but good nonetheless.

The first time I slept with him I clearly remember the shudder that ran down my spine when his tongue ran from my balls to the head of my dick. It had felt good. New, dangerous, dirty and all but really good.

It helped a lot that it wasn’t Matt with his clunky weird way of doing things.

“Are you okay?” He’d ask. “Am I doing this right?”

There were times when I wanted to slap him and tell him how much of a mood killer it was to ask those dumb questions in the middle of it all.

It was great to not have to say “don’t worry. You’re doing fine” in the middle of it.

It’s been about 3 months since I left Wammy’s House behind. Matt’s arms are a memory. Rod’s aren’t. Neither are Kal’s. He’s odd. I could do without his grabby, creepy, boney little fingers. Half the time he’s not even aware that he’s having sex. Good to be so drugged up. Sucks to be him.

But it’s been 3 months. I’ve exhausted myself. It’s not new just dangerous and dirty. And frankly, it’s cold and the shudders are no longer because of excitement but of disgust. This man, this scary big man between my legs has taken lives, hurt real people with those hands, those hands on my hips. I’ve seen those hands soaked in blood of orphans, not very different from myself. I’ve seen the look on his face when he’s broken a neck and frankly it doesn’t look very different from when he comes. And you know what? Frankly I’d just love it if someone asked me if I was enjoying what they were doing to me.

You need to be oh so fucking far away from home to miss it.


End file.
